Evolving Monster in the Monsterverse

The oceans, once teeming with the oldest songs of the Earth, had grown quiet.

Mark moved like a void through the submerged veins of the planet, his colossal form slicing through trenches and reefs with impunity. No longer did he hunt with the precision of a predator or the curiosity of a scientist seeking rare traits. Instead, he devoured with relentless hunger, consuming not merely for sustenance, but with the singular objective of transcending the limit that eluded him by a breath: evolution itself.

Every shoal of fish, every colony of crustaceans, every swirling bloom of jellyfish, every shark, ray, and serpentine leviathan that once called the ocean its kingdom—none escaped his reach. His tentacles tore through coral cities like blades of ruin, while his maw became a furnace in which entire ecosystems disappeared. The bioluminescent creatures of the deep, the great squids that once danced in ancient rhythms beneath the pressure of the abyss, all surrendered their existence to his cause.

Even the reefs, fossilised memories of primordial ages, were ground to sediment between his bone-shielded jaws.

Whale pods, once protectors of an elegance beyond human understanding, were consumed en masse. Swarms of krill, the very foundation of marine life, vanished like mist under his passage. He opened his maw wide and inhaled them by the trillions, his internal systems refining their genetic essence into pure evolutionary fuel. The ocean began to collapse behind him, not just in life, but in spirit, in purpose, in memory.

And yet, when he halted upon the sunken ledge of a drowned city, when he scanned his internal reserves with the hope of reaching his ascension, the number still mocked him.

Ninety-eight percent.

It was infuriating. No, it was more than that. It was maddening.

For long minutes that seemed to slow time itself, he floated in silence, the ruined monuments of Atlantis-like civilisations surrounding him in accusation. In his mind, he ran through every path he had taken, every sacrifice he had made, every moment that brought him to this edge of godhood. The knowledge that two mere percentage points still separated him from total metamorphosis was not just cruel—it was unjust.

But then he looked upward.

He looked past the murky surface that shimmered with the ghosts of sunlight. He looked to the continents, to the mountains, to the forests and the cities—the remaining bastions of life that had not yet been touched by his shadow.

He had avoided them. Not out of mercy, but because he had believed them insignificant. They were not apex titans. They were not nuclear-powered or genetically ancient or mythically potent. But they were still alive.

And life; any life, had genetic material.

His body twisted in motion, sending waves rolling in all directions as he surged toward the surface. Moments later, the oceans he had emptied boiled with displaced energy as his massive form erupted from the waves.

Cities had watched the oceans with silent dread for weeks, and now, they screamed.

He descended upon the first metropolis without grace or hesitation. Towering glass spires shattered like brittle crystal beneath his limbs. Roads buckled under his weight. Entire populations attempted to flee, but it mattered not. He devoured everything. People, their machines, their beasts of burden, their gardens, their trees—the soil itself was torn free, mulched and absorbed.

He moved from continent to continent, never resting, never relenting.

In the mountains of South America, tribes and jaguars alike disappeared beneath his breath. In the savannahs of Africa, herds of elephants and the last prides of lions found no sanctuary. The frozen tundra of Siberia, the dense jungles of the Congo, the rice fields of Asia, the wheat plains of North America; all of it was scoured.

Rainforests were swallowed whole, their canopies turned to mulch, their roots crushed to paste. He uprooted every form of organised life; civilisation, religion, memory, culture, until the world that once dreamed beneath the stars became nothing more than biomass.

Cities that once claimed the sky became sunken craters. Deserts that once whispered ancient truths became nothing but blackened scars. Oceans, now empty, reflected only the void he left behind.

And still, he kept going.

He chased the final remnants into the far corners of the earth, burrowing into bunkers, demolishing subterranean vaults, ripping up hidden labs and cryogenic shelters once thought immune to apocalypse.

Humanity had always wondered what their end would look like; a flash of nuclear fire, the slow crawl of climate collapse, the cold grip of plague. They had never imagined this; a single entity, born from their own hubris, methodically unmaking everything they had ever called theirs.

When the last forest fell, when the last voice was silenced, when the final roots of green were swallowed by the earth's new king, Mark paused again.

In just 30 days, he had cleansed the world of most of its complex life. He floated in the sky using gravity manipulation, no longer needing to crawl or swim. The planet had quieted beneath him.

And in that stillness, the system chimed.

[Genetic Saturation Reached: 100%]

His massive eyes narrowed, each of them now radiating a different shade of hunger, awareness, and anticipation. The world had been consumed, its essence burned into him like carvings on stone. He had become everything this world had to offer.

Now, and only now, was he ready to become something else; to evolve.

{AN: By now, my exams are done and I no longer have time to write novels. This chapter was written on the 30th of June, and put up for release in advance. I plan to end the chapter by 49, and have one side-story chapter at chapter 50. Hopefully everyone likes it.}